


Dawnstone

by CaptainCorale



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bigotry & Prejudice, Bullying, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Dorian Pavus character study, Dorian/Felix Friendship, Eventual Happy Ending, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Novelization, Past Abuse, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4669121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCorale/pseuds/CaptainCorale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Around the time of the fall of Kirkwall, Dorian's carefully crafted world of freedom and escapism in the Alexius Estate begins to crumble around him. From there he must find his own way, and choose his own path, that somehow leads him to the Inquisition. A story of self-discovery and maturing as a young, spoiled man is forced to flee everything he's ever known and ends up with more than he'd ever thought of having. </p><p>[aka, the Bull and Dorian get together fic that everyone else wrote a year ago.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally intended to be tied into [The Misfortune of Fate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4348657/chapters/9863542), but I decided the stories would flow better and be read by a wider audience if they were told separately. Although I do intend for them to tie into each other eventually, it won't be a for a while if I even get that far. This is the obligatory 'Iron Bull and Dorian get together' story to add to the glorious pile already out there. To be fair, I haven't seen someone start from Dorian's time before leaving Tevinter with an adoribull slant to it, so hopefully you find it enjoyable.
> 
> If you enjoyed my work, please consider [ buying me a coffee ](http://https://ko-fi.com/cptncorale/) so I can sit and write in coffee shops and be super powered with caffeine!

It was long into the night and the fire’s merry crackling was being restored yet again by a svelte, elven woman who, when she was finished, turned to leave the room as silently as she had entered it. She was a slave and on her way out she stopped and curtsied, as any savvy slave would, to the young masters inside who were laughing drunkenly and loudly. They did not acknowledge her, nor did she expect them to. The ten feet high, solid wooden door echoed with a thud behind her when she left and the two men jumped and turned sharply to it, their gazes bleary and befuddled by booze.

“Must’ve been Effiny,” said Felix in way of explanation with a lazy wave of his hand. The renewed light of the fireplace did nothing to flatter his pallor, Dorian noticed; the already stark circles under his eyes further shadowed by it, making him look gaunter than he was.

Dorian nodded, and wiped a tear of mirth from his eye, still tittering under his breath.

“I thought it was your father, I nearly bloody shot five feet in the air,” he said, gesturing to their glasses.

“ _You_ did? I'd be the one force fed some _elixir_ to make up for it.”

The two men were comfortable and warm with laughter, and with the supply of liquor they had well and truly depleted the estate of. They sat relaxed and casually as though the great study and its grand, luxurious fittings were nothing more than the most basic and bland necessities of life, as interesting as old socks. Quite probably to the two young men that _was_ how they saw it, for they had been born and raised in such decadence and never been without it. The walls were stacked high with hundreds of leather bound, rich smelling tomes, from the thickly laid, red carpeted floor to the ceiling adorned with intricate crystal chandeliers. The large, ornate desk in the centre of the room was peppered with platters of delicious looking cheeses and fruits, placed on top of papers scribbled full of scholarly notes and garnished most inelegantly with a pair of booted feet as one of the young men extended his long legs and perched them on top of it all. He swished his shiny, dark, shoulder length hair from his face and pouted at his friend, for he was a beautiful man to look at, and he knew it well. His dashing looks always got him what he wanted, and what he wanted right now, was more alcohol.

“Top me up, won’t you?” Dorian said, tilting his glass to Felix. It was still half-full. Felix raised an eyebrow at him, obviously tempted to refuse him. Felix wasn’t even of the male persuasion, but regardless even he was apparently unable to say no to Dorian Pavus, which delighted Dorian to no end.

“We’re almost out,” Felix said peevishly as he sluggishly upended the last of the bottle’s contents into Dorian’s crystal glass. Dorian winked at him in thanks.

“So, that dreadful ghoul, Danarius is finally dead, then?” Dorian asked, taking a deep drink. Felix threw his head back and laughed uproariously again, Dorian joined him immediately, nearly choking on his drink. “Tell me everything you heard,” Dorian urged.

“I still can’t get over it.” Felix managed through his cackles. “For  _years_  he’s chasing that slave of his like some storybook villain. All the money he haemorrhaged into his unnatural experiments on the poor devil, sending expedition after expedition, hunter this, apprentice that, blood magic all over the place like some barbarian. Sweet Maker, and then he finally catches up to him and this elf - what was his name again?”

“Oh, as if I would know.”

“He renamed him.”

“How tacky, that's practically archaic.”

“Fen-something, I think. Anyway he’s just relaxing and not even bothered, been pissing about as a mercenary in _Kirkwall_ this whole time and actually living in Danarius’s old mansion there.”

Dorian who had the misfortune of taking a sip of his drink at that precise moment, sprayed it partly down himself as another fit of laughter took him. His long legs fell from their perch on the desk as he tried to compose himself.

“And it turns out, this Fenris is just hanging out with the guy who slaughtered the Arishok. Rumour is they're lovers but I've no idea if that's true.”

“The Champion of Kirkwall and Danarius's slave? Never,” Dorian said incredulously, his breath hitching. “And Danarius chasing after them. That is too much.”

“So, Danarius must have been shitting himself, but anyway he says to him ‘uh, hey, give my slave back, he’s mine’ and this Champion guy, this Hawke says ‘hey, fuck off, why don’t you?’ Then sets him on fire because he’s a bloody mage too, an apostate. A decent one at that. Kept that one quiet, didn’t they?”

Dorian’s laughs had become silent in their ferocity, his elegant features scrunched up as he shook. He slapped his thigh and cared not one jot as the red wine spilled onto his robes. Whether the situation was genuinely that ridiculous, or he was appallingly drunk, he couldn’t say. It was probably a strong mixture of both, he thought.

“So then, you remember how this elf could _phase_  through things, like a ghost.”

“Goodness, yes.” Dorian breathed. “That was impressive, wasn’t it, though? How  _did_  Danarius do that, I wonder?”

“Well, he phased his fist right through Danarius’s neck, took his head clean off.”

“Fuck me! Oh, we shouldn’t laugh. That’s monstrous,” Dorian said with a gasp, but a trembling smile took over his face and before they knew it, they were giggling all over again. “Anyone but that lecherous, old gasbag and I’m sure we wouldn’t find it quite so amusing.”

“We bloody would! What a tit,” Felix said, laughing.

Felix stopped, looking pensive for a moment. “He grabbed your arse once, didn’t he?”

“And the rest,” Dorian said with a flourish of the hand. “I was barely twenty. Sickening! I told him, ‘sir, I am terribly flattered by your efforts, truly. But I’m not even sure my _considerable_ necromancy talents could get a rise out of  _your_ wrinkly cock’.”

“Dorian!” Felix laughed, simultaneously amused and scandalised by Dorian’s raunchy humour.

A sly smile lingered on Dorian’s lips like a mischievous promise as he watched Felix’s sallow skin flush and his dark eyes gleam with joy. He seemed younger than he had in years tonight; he almost looked as he should, a young man of twenty-two, rather than the haggard, ravaged man he appeared to be these days. It was wonderful to spend time with him in this way, to see his friend so at ease, happy and carefree even if it was only for one evening, even if it was all a distraction from the truth. Felix’s illness had been particularly taxing on him of late, his father’s experiments and medicines that aimed to prolong Felix’s life were almost as unpleasant as the illness itself. Dorian sighed, the soft purse of his full lips twisting unattractively. Alexius and Dorian had reached a significant snag in their research to purge Felix of the Blight, one that Dorian knew to be insurmountable. He hadn't told either of them yet, but it had been their last thin thread of hope, and now it had snapped. He would give anything to see Felix well and living a normal life again. But he knew now that no matter what he did, it would never happen. Felix could live a little while longer as a very poorly man, but he would eventually perish and die. The illness would have him one day, that much Dorian knew to be true. It broke his heart.

“Maker, Felix,” sighed Dorian, suddenly miserable. He reached out and grasped Felix's hand in his. His drunkenness had suddenly become unsophisticated and he was tactile and sloppy. As quickly as they had been laughing, Dorian felt his eyes water shamefully; the dull fog of inebriation no longer relaxing or amusing, but rather making him numb to what was appropriate behaviour in good company, and worse still, maudlin.

“D-Dorian,” Felix stuttered, taken aback by this sudden change in Dorian’s demeanour. “Stop it now.” He petted the side Dorian’s head awkwardly. “You didn’t actually fuck him, did you?”

A wet sounding laugh alongside a groan of disgust escaped Dorian. Despite Felix's attempt at rekindling the laughter of before, Dorian felt a trembling wave of sadness almost overcome him. He was suddenly and deeply struck by the knowledge that his beautiful friend, his trouble-loving fool of a companion, was absolutely going to die far before his time, and Dorian would be without him and his terrible jokes forever. It was just too much, how could he bare it? How could anyone expect that of him? A sob shook his body and he rubbed Felix’s hand again.

“Apologies, Felix.” He sniffed pathetically, what a sorry sight he must be. “You’ve outdrank me again.”

There was long and poignant silence between them as Felix smiled fondly at Dorian. The fire popped and crackled away and Dorian chewed on his lip as he fought another display of weepiness. Felix pulled Dorian's hand to his mouth, and kissed it lightly. It was a loving, but not a sexual or sensual gesture. Felix was as a brother to him as well as any by blood could be.

“You’re going to be alright, Dorian,” Felix whispered. “Don’t worry about me. You sad, old fop.”

Dorian huffed. “How dare you call me _old_ at a time like this? I'm in the prime of my youth.” The banter died on his lips, trailing off and lingering in the silence. It left a sorrowful sense of finality to something between them, a cadence to their song.

“Oh, Felix. I am sorry I cannot help you more.”

“Stop it,” said Felix. Slowly, he pulled on Dorian’s hands, yanking them both up onto their feet and enveloped him into a tight embrace. Dorian rested his head on Felix’s shoulder, his arms circled under the other man’s and squeezed.

“Don’t die,” Dorian said, and hated himself for it.

“Oh, there are worse things than dying, Dorian,” he replied. They swayed for a moment.

"Much worse things. Like that bloody moustache you’re trying to grow.”

Dorian gasped. “It’s roguish,” he objected adamantly. Felix groaned.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what the dubcon tag refers to please see the end notes.

**Dawnstone**

**Chapter Two**

The next morning was a not so refreshing lesson in why mixing liquors with wine was an unquestionably hideous decision. Dorian might have figured himself an expert in the matter by this point in his life, but his body and mind were all too keen to enrol him in yet another remedial crash course. He was caught somewhere between painful sobriety and an odd joviality that was only possible through the alcohol lingering in his blood still. Either way, he was feeling thoroughly sorry for himself. _Maybe I’ll_ avoid _a hangover_ , he prayed. _Anything is possible_. It was a monstrous denial and he hated everything.

Looking around, he thanked the Maker for his drunk self’s decision to pull the curtains shut before he’d passed out, the gloom was heaven-sent. Rolling a little on top of his sheets, he realised he’d fallen asleep with his evening robes still on and he grimaced when he looked down and saw that they were stained irreparably with red wine. _What a mess you are, Dorian_ , he thought. Cradling his head in his hands and thumbing hard at his temples, he found himself unable to remember a great portion of the previous night. It set off a creeping anxiety swirling in his gut. Or was that impending vomit? Dorian, like many young Alti in Tevinter, had a particular weakness for the bottle. Favouring a decidedly hedonistic lifestyle meant that as long as it was there, he was probably going to be drinking it, all in the name of having a good, old time. Dorian wiped the black, tear-strewn makeup from under his eyes. _A bloody good time_ , he thought dispiritedly.

He decided not to let his anxiety pester him, it had been a while since he had indulged quite that much after all and judging by how he felt now, it would be a while before he did so again. He heaved himself up in his bed with a groan, moving clumsily like a puppet with several broken strings. His modest, but elegantly furnished rooms were illuminated only by the sliver of sunlight from the top of the large, bay windows, his only clue to the fact that it was likely past noon. It drove him quickly from his bed as he knew Alexius would not be best impressed by his tardiness, especially when he turned up with a furious hangover. He opened the drapes a little. _No luck_ , he thought with a wince, there was definitely no time to bathe. He stripped and shuffled over to a basin of water to splash himself and soap up his face for a quick shave in front of the mirror.

Felix was right; the moustache _was_ looking rather foolish. Dorian had been determined to wait out the embarrassing, unstylish part of growing facial hair, excited about just how _dapper_ he would appear after it was finished and groomed. But in the meantime, attending parties and events with this wispy fluff wilting on his upper lip…Well it simply would not do to be called ‘ _unpolished_ ’ behind his back. There was quite enough gossip about him floating around as it was these days. Not that he cared, of course. But now that he thought about it, at the last two affairs he’d attended not one man had tried to grope _or_ bugger him in the gardens. Not _one_! It simply would not do.

He tilted his head this way and that, pondering his reflection for a moment before he decided. With an exasperated growl, he soaped it up and shaved the moustache off in a couple of quick movements. He looked almost indecently young without it. Dorian was nothing if not proud of his youthful looks and _exquisite_ bone structure, but it was a little difficult to get himself to be taken seriously by his peers when he looked to be a mouthy pretty boy.

As he brushed his shoulder length hair roughly he decided he would try growing it again after the Summerday celebrations where he’d surely make such a drunken spectacle of himself, he could afford to avoid a handful of parties. He changed into a simple, dark purple robe with light, golden adornments and doused himself liberally with talcum scented perfumes to ease what would surely become a pungent stench of alcohol on him as he sweated through the day. He was forcing himself to smear a little paste onto his skin and kohl under his eyes when the hangover really started to hit him and a sudden bile rose in his throat. He panted as he fought it back down.

“Today is going to be painful,” he said to himself.

By the time he’d finished making himself a little presentable, he was very late indeed. He rushed down the main hallway stairs of the estate, the slight jolt of each and every step threatened once again to send bile careening up his throat. _Don’t you dare vomit, Dorian Pavus_ , he told himself. _Don’t you dare_. The slaves were bustling around, cleaning after the lunch service and preparing for whatever guests Alexius would entertaining later that afternoon. He darted quickly into the kitchen, manoeuvring around the kitchen slaves to gulp down a pint or two of water and snatch up a nibble of bread. They paid him no heed other than a cursory “‘sir” or “afternoon, young Master Pavus” that they called out to him. They were very used to Dorian and Felix sneaking around in the kitchen to pilfer sweets or liquors away at all hours after all the years he had been living here under Alexius’s tutelage. He was unsteadily racing out of the pantry when he barged into Felix. He almost choked on a bit of bread still in his mouth and he grasped Felix’s shoulder as he recomposed himself.

“Felix! Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Maker! You look worse than I do.”

“I’m not hungover, Dorian,” Felix replied, his mouth a flat, thin line.

“Oh. Yes, well. Everyone looks worse than me, I wouldn’t take it personally.” He patted the shoulder he was grasping.

Felix rolled his eyes. He dragged Dorian by his wrist into a corner away from Alexius’s study.

“Father _knows_ ,” he hissed.

Dorian groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Apparently today was going to be a lot more painful than he’d originally figured. As part of Felix’s medicine regimen, alcohol was strictly forbidden by Alexius. Their research didn’t prove that it made any special difference to Felix’s health, but regardless Alexius had been militant about everything and anything Felix ate, drank, did or _said_ since he had fallen victim to the Blight. He was convinced that his concocted potions full of exotic and peculiar ingredients would have some kind of positive effect. Poor blighter. _Blight_ er. Dorian smirked at his private joke. _Not the time, Dorian._

“How?” he asked. He was hardly surprised Alexius had found out, but he had hoped he would get the lecture after he’d recovered from this monstrous hangover.

“One of the slaves told him, I suppose. Look, I told him it was my idea, my booze. Just go along with it, and save yourself some hassle, alright?”

“Oh, dear. He must’ve blown a gasket.”

“Something like that. Lucky I have the ‘ _I’m dying, look at my sad, sad face_ ’ card still.”

“That’s terrible, Felix.” Dorian said lowly and shook his head at him. He was caught between snorting and wishing that Felix wouldn’t make light of his severe illness.

“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” Felix asked, grinning.

Dorian winced sharply as his memory started wafting through the fog of his hangover. Embarrassment rolled in his gut like a bad fish stew as he was hit with a flashback of crying on Felix’s shoulder like some vapid lush. Dorian, admittedly, was the kind of man whose feelings ran deep and strong, and while he was prone to “displays of emotion” as his father dubbed it disdainfully, he certainly wasn’t the kind of man who openly _wept_. Goodness, but Felix would never let him live that one down.

“Shut up, you dreadful shit,” he snapped, feeling heat in his face despite his smirk.

Felix laughed and slapped him on the back. “Forget about it, Dorian. One more look at your quivering moustache and I’d have started wailing too. Hey, where _is_ your little caterpillar friend?” He gestured to Dorian’s newly shaved face.

“Maker, I hate you. You aren’t the least bit amusing,” he groused and with that he nudged Felix, who guffawed loudly, out of his way. “Wish me luck,” he muttered under his breath. He steeled himself and turned into the study, not nearly ready enough to face whatever wrath Alexius would bring upon him.  

Inside, Alexius was leaning over his desk, flicking through a book and muttering to himself in concentration. Thin, green tendrils of magic moved through his fingers as he worked. He didn't look his way when Dorian announced himself with a polite cough, only moved to another worn book, flipping it open with a loud thud. Dorian swallowed, and took it to be a sure signal of Alexius’s displeasure with him. He decided not to chance his luck for the time being and said nothing. Alexius’s private study was as richly decorated as the rest of the estate; it was smaller than the library, but full of desks covered in books, assorted vials and magical trinkets. Dorian had a dedicated corner of his own near the fireplace. His desk was piled high with his own books and notes on various magics and several on history and politics. More than his bedroom, more than anywhere arguably, this little nook was where he felt at safest and at home. He sat down in his plush velvet covered chair and reached for one of the tomes. The least he could do was stare at it and pretend he was researching something. A bottle of brandy stood on top of a particularly rare book about Rivaini voo-doo. He swallowed, the sight of it alone made his stomach turn, so he took it gently and moved it to the floor. It clinked off the marble stone and Alexius turned and gave him a dark look.

“Guzzling it down again so soon?” he said, spying the bottle. The distaste in his tone was all too evident.

Dorian pursed his lips, eager to retort but held himself back. It would be unwise to poke the bear. He had just enough grace to look embarrassed, which seemed to ease Alexius’s foul mood with him as he shook his head with a sigh, but spat nothing else at him. Felix might have told him that Dorian had nothing to do with the supply of alcohol, but Dorian wouldn’t have thought for a second that Alexius would have actually _believed_ that. While Felix’s penchant for trouble had cooled and dwindled with maturity, unfortunately Dorian had loudly garnered himself quite a bothersome reputation over the years, much to the chagrin of the Pavus family.

In fact, the most recent letter from his father also lay on the desk. Dorian shot Alexius another glance as he fiddled with the edges of it. The envelope contained a second letter, a plea for Alexius from his father to see reason and to halt his maddening, hopeless quest. Aside from the gossip in the Imperium and vague concern for their wellbeing, Halward Pavus needed Dorian to leave Alexius’s side and return home. He could not outwardly ask this, naturally; the Pavus family (and Dorian especially) owed Alexius everything. When Alexius had plucked Dorian as a drunken and furious seventeen year old from a whorehouse and taken him under his wing as his apprentice, he had saved the Pavus family from overwhelming scandal. It had turned out to be a mutually beneficial arrangement as Alexius was accredited with Dorian’s every success as they years went by and he became an accomplished mage and politician. But when Felix had contracted the Blight, and Dorian had moved back into Alexius’s estate to devote himself to Alexius as his assistant once again, his father had been less than pleased. Time was ticking, after all. For Dorian however, it was only a happy consequence that Felix’s illness kept him away from his family and bride-to-be in Qarinus a while longer.

When they had first begun their search for an antidote, Dorian had been optimistic; foolish, perhaps, in hindsight. But it had seemed to him then that two minds as bright as theirs with the plethora of resources they had available, they would surely come up with an idea that would make Felix healthy again. Several years had passed since then, and as their optimism diminished substantially, Halward’s impatience grew and festered. Dorian was tempted to throw both letters into the fire and forget about it all, but he knew he wouldn’t; his father trusted him to pass his letters on, and he wouldn’t betray that trust.

Dorian worked half-heartedly for an hour or so while he waited for Alexius’s irritation with him to wane. Dorian had already reached the end of his research on their experiments with temporal magic, and his conclusion was not a positive one. He was reluctant to pass his findings over to Alexius. As far as Dorian was concerned, it was the end of this particular route, and possibly the last good idea they had. That was bad news all round, and Dorian still wasn’t ready to face the consequences of that yet. He decided not to mention it today.

“Alexius. I have a letter for you from my father,” Dorian said quietly, as though he didn’t really want Alexius to hear him.

“What does it say?” Alexius asked, not looking away from his book.

“There’s some magisterium news you already know, I’m sure.” Dorian paused. “He also writes that, well he worries for you, Alexius. He doesn’t want you wasting time trying to find a cure when you could be…”

“Spending time with my dying child?” Alexius snapped.

“Something like that, in so many words.”

Alexius sighed. “Your father does not have a talent for sensitivity, Dorian.”

“No, sir.”

“Regardless, it’s all a ruse, I’m sure. He wants you to return to Qarinus.”

“Undoubtedly, sir.”

Alexius sighed, and closed his book. He rubbed his temples for a long moment. When he next spoke, he sounded much older than Dorian had ever heard him sound before. It unnerved him.

“I know you won’t, Dorian. I don’t need to ask you if going back to Qarinus is what you want.” Slowly, he went to Dorian’s side and patted his shoulder solidly, sadness stretched all over his face. “I know it’s not, and I know why. But you’re a grown man now, you’ll be a senior enchanter soon, then a magister and this is not something you can run from forever, my boy.”

Dorian said nothing, he felt sick again. This was not the conversation he thought he would be having today.

“You are always welcome here. But what your father wants for you is a question of eventuality, not probability.”

“Fatalism, Alexius? Really?” He did not want to press harder than that, but the hypocrisy was startling. The bottle of brandy was starting to look significantly more appealing, if he was being honest with himself.

“I did not say you must passively accept, but it is foolish to hope for anything else. If you want to stay in Tevinter and take up your father’s mantel, that is. He is rather insistent on this particular matter, it seems; as is our society, generally. You must marry, have a child, and do what is respectable if you want to reach your true potential here.”

Dorian was too hungover, and now too miserable to engage Alexius in a debate or argue his case. Alexius was well aware of Dorian’s lack of romantic interest in women, and he had been surprisingly non-judgemental for a man of his age and station. Not that he much of a leg to stand on, of course. After all, they had met in whorehouse that specifically catered to those with certain unconventional _predilections_.

Dorian avoided looking at him and held out the letter for Alexius to take himself. Alexius snorted at it and waved his hand towards the fireplace.

“No need for me to read it.” He re-opened his book. “Just go to bed, Dorian. I don’t think you’re going to be much use to me today,” he said. “Sleep it off. But do not come to my study in such a mess again, my boy. I don’t mind what you get up to in your own time. But you know that when you’re in here, you are on my time, and expect a certain standard of work from you.”

Dorian nodded hesitantly. _There_ was the lecture and wrath he had expected. However, he didn’t want to go back to his room to be alone with his thoughts now after Alexius had brought his betrothal up. He knew he was just going to toss and turn and feel morose all afternoon. He’d rather bury himself in studying. It didn’t matter what he wanted; Alexius wasn’t to be argued with today. So, with a sigh he gathered a couple of books, his father’s letter and shuffled off to return to his room.  

“And, Dorian?” Alexius said as Dorian’s hand wrapped around the handle.

“Yes, sir?” Dorian said hopefully. Perhaps Alexius had changed his mind and would give him a task after all.

“Leave Felix alone. I do not want him spiralling further down into your debauchery. He’s making a good reputation for himself, and I expect it to stay that way.”

Dorian said nothing; he bit into his bottom lip and closed the door hard behind him as he left. Resting against it on the other side, he growled, seething. How dare he, he thought. Dorian was no more depraved than any other Tevinter Altus. Not to mention, Felix was only a couple of years younger than Dorian! He had no more led him into pariah-hood and trouble than he had hopped and skipped there alongside him. The cheek of Alexius to say such a thing to him, Dorian thought in a rage. _Bloody Alexius!_ Ever since the momentum of their research had started to dwindle, Alexius had developed an angry and cutting side to his personality that Dorian didn’t know how to manage. It worsened with every failed experiment and Dorian worried that each time it was step closer to desperate actions, like blood magic, for instance. But Dorian told himself he still had faith in Alexius and believed whole-heartedly that he wouldn’t turn to dark and forbidden magics, no matter the cost.

“Psst. Dorian,” someone hissed and Dorian jumped. He’d been so stuck in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed the man hiding in a nook away from the study.

“Cassius? What in the world?” He went to the man’s side, checking over his shoulder that nobody was around to see them. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I came to see you, of course,” Cassius said, grinning. Dorian grinned back, it was difficult not to. Cassius had a very infectious smile. He was gorgeous too, of course, with elegantly coiffed, short brown hair, thin lips and high cheekbones. He wasn’t as broad or tall as the men Dorian typically lusted after, but he had a fantastic cock, so Dorian made do.

“How sweet of you,” Dorian said, leaning into him. “I’m having a terrible day.” He wanted to kiss him, but Cassius tended to get irritated when he tried.

“That’s a pity, Dorian. But maybe I can find a way to make it better?” He rolled his hips against Dorian’s for emphasis. Dorian laughed quietly and shook his head.

“I don’t think I’m up for much of that today. I’m hungover and completely exhausted.”

Cassius frowned. “Oh, come on, Dorian. I came all this way, snuck in and waited for a whole hour out here just so I could see you. You don’t want to reward me for all my efforts?” He pouted and slid a hand down Dorian’s waist. “I think you do, Dorian.”

Dorian sighed, he really didn’t have the energy for it. He liked Cassius well enough, but sex was out of the question for him today. All he wanted was to curl up next to a warm body, and steal a little kiss. Cassius wasn’t normally the ‘curling up’ type either, however and Dorian strongly suspected he wasn’t going to get anything he wanted today.

“Why don’t you come upstairs, and I’ll nuzzle up to you a bit,” Dorian suggested lightly. “Maybe I’ll be up for something more _rigorous_ after a nap.”

Cassius rolled his eyes at him. “I don’t have time for that. We don’t have to do the whole thing, just suck me off and I’ll leave you be,” pressed Cassius.

That stung, and Dorian was certain it showed. This was the way of it in Tevinter for male sexual encounters, as sad it was. Dorian was very used to his trysts playing out this way, and he struggled with pretending that it was satisfactory every time. However, he still desired, still _craved_ certain things, and he would take whatever he could get.  

 _It would be foolish to hope for anything else_. Isn’t that what Alexius had said?

“Fine. Upstairs with you, then. Let’s make it quick.”

Cassius grinned again and kissed Dorian on the cheek. “Wonderful,” he said and slapped him on the arse. Dorian sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dorian is pressured into sex, when he doesn’t want to. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hoped you liked it! Please consider leaving a review, as I'd really appreciate some feedback. [ You can also find me on tumblr for other drabbles and fandom rants, etc ](http://captaincorale.tumblr.com). I'm so sorry that this is a slow burner. I have some of the adoribull chapters written, but it'll take another couple of chapters to get there. This felt like it took FOREVER to write, but it's still so short! D-: 
> 
> So, I really wanted to explore a couple of elements in this chapter. I wanted to touch on Dorian’s relationship with Alexius, their familiarity and his mentorship of him, and the pseudo father like respect he has for him, but also on how Alexius has already slipped into his downfall and how that’s started to affect him and Dorian. Other than that, I really wanted to show how self-destructive Dorian is. This chapter is set before the shit really hits the fan with Dorian and his family but I wanted to show that he already acts out on these self-loathing tendencies of his and this inability to deal with his feelings healthily results in a poor relationship with alcohol and with men. I don’t want to use the word alcoholic to describe Dorian, because I don’t think that’s the crux of the issue. He drinks to avoid his feelings, he snaps and becomes hurtful to avoid addressing his feelings, he makes jokes to avoid his genuine emotions. It’s the act of it that interests me, not necessarily the method. Even when you’re in an inky/Dorian relationship, Dorian will lash out at you angrily rather than deal with the fact that he’s embarrassed, afraid or worried for you, he drinks rather than think about his father, or Alexius or Felix dying, he makes jokes when Bull is romantic and sweet to him because he’s just NOT good at dealing or processing with his feelings honestly. Why? I haven’t worked that out yet.
> 
> I realise this is must be looking like a Dorian character study, rather than an Adoribull fic, and you’re right. I think it will end up being a Dorian and Bull CS (if I can get my Bull voice right), and then a CS of them as a couple with a lot of timeskips.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still looking for a beta buddy to bounce ideas off of and check my grammar, characterisation etc, usually I proof read this after a couple of martinis so I could use a voice of reason with A+ grammar skills. British spellings, fyi.

**Dawnstone**

**Chapter Three**

Dorian put it off for as long as he could, far longer than he should have, in fact. But eventually he had to tell Alexius what he knew; they were simply out of options.

Dread and trepidation crawled through him from every possible line of thought and tied into one hideous knot that couldn’t be unravelled. He feared how Alexius would react, he feared his own failure, he feared having no choice but to return to Qarinus as a result of this dead end, he feared it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back and Alexius would turn to more desperate and illegal measures to save Felix. But most of all, Dorian feared for how all of this would affect _Felix_. This illness was going to be his demise, and although Felix postured and made out that he had already made his peace with it, this was a definitive full-stop in the possibility of curing him. On top of all that, Dorian couldn’t imagine anything worse than his friend dying alone, in pain and ashamed of his father. Put simply: Dorian was afraid that revealing the results of his experiments would make everything much worse. But Alexius _had_ to know, he had to accept that there was nothing more to be done for the boy, and he had to move on.

However, judging from Alexius’s reaction Dorian suspected he had largely known the outcome already. If not from his own findings, then Dorian figured he had gathered that something was amiss from the way Dorian had been acting recently. Dorian always had been a weak pretender, he wore his heart on his sleeve and Alexius knew it.

When he dropped his papers onto Alexius’s desk, and told him unsteadily that their flirtation with temporal magic was over, Alexius had said nothing. He chewed his lip and clenched his jaw before he nodded once, as though Dorian had passed him the morning correspondence and told him that breakfast was burned. Silently, Dorian poured him a brandy and, pushing it into his hands, squeezed his shoulder tightly. He hadn’t expected Alexius to break down weeping, but all he needed was a sign from Alexius that he understood what he was being told, that this truly was the end of the road. Their research had reached from basic poultices to literally attempting to go back in time, it was too much, and it tiptoed on the line of the ‘second sin’, in Dorian’s opinion. Alexius had to quit this, and turn his attention to filling his son’s final days with joy rather than focus on the past.

“Alexius?” Dorian said finally.

“Leave me,” Alexius replied, his voice a low croak.

“Alexius, I know yo-“ Dorian started.

“Are you deaf, as well as incompetent?” he spat, cutting him off.

Dorian had prepared himself for a strong reaction. He was still hurt, of course. The Alexius he knew wasn’t the type to sharply lash out in such a way, but then again, he had just been told his child was inevitably going to die, so it wasn’t though he took it personally. Dorian had already expensed away the angry part of his grief over the matter alone, but Alexius probably had not. He chose to say nothing, although he was tempted, naturally. He merely bowed his head, mumbled a solemn apology and exited the study.

He spent the night pacing in his room, every now and again wandering downstairs to see if Alexius had taken to bed yet. Each time he could see the flickering light of the candle inside the study from underneath the door. He managed to stay awake until dawn broke, before he fell asleep in a chair in his room.

That had been three weeks ago and Dorian hadn’t seen Alexius since. He must have left the estate that same morning. Felix was wrought with worry; nobody knew where Magister Alexius had gone. Dorian made light of it as much as he could get away with, and prepared Felix’s potions diligently. All the while he wrote letter after letter, sent messengers daily to their friends and colleagues to see if anyone had word of him. They hadn’t and Dorian knew it was a very bad sign.

“You must eat, Felix,” Dorian urged over the dinner table one night. Felix looked up from the plate he’d been glaring at for the past ten minutes. His slightly gaunt cheeks made his dark eyes appear larger and more startled. “You look terrible.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said quietly after a moment.

“Hungry or not, Felix, if you don’t eat that, so help me I’ll-“

“Leave it, Dorian,” Felix snapped, using the same tone Alexius had when he threw Dorian from his study. “I’ll eat when I bloody well please.”

Dorian persisted. He wasn’t about to let Felix get weaker while Alexius was gone, not on his watch. _Not a chance,_ he thought.

“You need to keep your strength up, Felix. I know it’s not all terribly pleasant, but I’d hate to see you waste away. Please. I don’t mean to be a nag. But I-“

Felix grabbed a huge hunk of bread and shoved it in his mouth forcibly.

“Happy?” he growled around it, his cheeks full and puffed out.

“Quite,” Dorian said, smirking. “If only because you look like a rather handsome hamster.”

Felix, even in his (understandably) foul mood, could not conceal a small grin. “Shut up already,” he said, swallowing.

Dorian laughed at him. “Come, finish that. You’ll take your medicine and then let’s have brandy in the library. While the cat’s away, I believe, yes? And it’s your turn to set up the chess board. Prepare to be decimated.”

Later that night, they were in the library nursing a couple of double brandies. The barely spoke over their game of chess, and now that they were done, Felix sat hunched in his chair and stared into the fire. It was strange to think that only a few weeks ago, they had been chortling and gossiping the night away in this very room. Alexius’s alarming departure and Felix’s troubled mood made it seem that night was a lifetime ago. How had everything gotten so twisted, Dorian thought, and how much worse was it going to get? Dorian hated himself then for being the catalyst to all this. He had only hoped to bring Alexius and Felix some form of peace. Irrationally, he thought if only he had kept his research to himself for a little while longer, Felix would still be smiling and Alexius…well, Maker only knew where he was and what he was doing now.

As if he had heard his thoughts, Felix lowly said, “it’s been almost a month, Dorian. Where is he?”

Dorian knew it was a rhetorical question, but he couldn’t stand to hear the angst in Felix’s tone. Felix was normally such a happy lad, he didn’t deserve this misery, especially in his illness.

“Oh, Felix,” he mumbled, turning the brandy glass in his hands. He had no answers for him, despite how he much he ached to give them to him.

“Don’t ‘ _oh, Felix_ ’ me!” he barked and stood angrily. With a frustrated cry, he hurled his glass into the fire. It smashed loudly and the flames shot high around it. Dorian jumped. Bracing one arm against the fireplace, Felix’s chest heaved as he fought to compose himself. His pale features looked almost demonic against the orange light of the flame. “You know _exactly_ what’s he doing. Everyone does now,” he whispered, his voice breaking. He hid his face in his free hand. “All these years of trying to get our people to turn against blood magic and all the rest of that shite, and away he fucking goes, the second it all gets difficult.” He sighed, a fragile, trembling thing. “Blood magic in _our_ family, Dorian. I won’t have it.”

A warmth spread in Dorian’s chest when Felix said ‘ _our family_ ’. Dorian had spent more time living with and caring for the Alexius family than he had with his own; House Alexius was as much his family as House Pavus was. It was pleasing to hear Felix thought the same way.

“You…don’t know that, Felix,” Dorian said weakly. Although he wasn’t so sure himself anymore. “It could be any manner of things that he’s gone to find.”

“There’s _no_ other explanation, Dorian. He’s gone to some fucking blood mage. All my life, my father has been so staunchly against it, the same way yours has been. But I knew it, the moment the healers told him I was a goner, this was how it was always going to end up.”

“He can’t bear to lose you, Felix. He loves you so much. If it’s true, that he’s turned to blood magic, and it still may _not_ be the case…we’ll save him together. There is always redemption.”

Felix turned from the fire and smiled at him softly. He went to the desk to fetch another glass and refilled their drinks.

“You know, I am a little afraid,” he said quietly. “To die, I mean.”

Dorian swallowed the sudden lump that formed in his throat. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t, Felix. I am here for you if you need to speak about it.”

Felix chuckled. “Not much to say, is there?” He swallowed the contents of his glass and refilled it immediately. “Everyone dies. But it took a long time for me to get my head around the idea, that I’m going to be checking out a lot earlier than planned; that I won’t live long enough to become an enchanter, get married, have a child, grow old, all that guff. Then I stopped being able to do magic properly…too weak to reach the fade awake now. I think that’s when it started to really hit me. It was an odd feeling. That image of dying, weak and sick in a bed…how shit is that, Dorian? I’m not sure I ever pictured myself dying in a blaze of glory, but still…”

Dorian bit into his lower lip. He would not cry, he would not, he told himself. This was the first time since he had been attacked that Felix had actually spoken honestly about dealing with his mortality.

“But you know what I worry most about now?” Felix continued.

“What?”

“ _You_ , Dorian.”

“Me? Don’t be absurd.” He laughed haughtily, a false and empty sound.

“Nothing in life is inevitable, except death, I suppose. I don’t want you to end up trapped in a cage, screaming inside and living your life unhappily. _That_ would be worse than death. You need to take care of yourself, and make a plan to live well. Promise me.”

“Very well, you worry-wart. If it puts your mind at ease. I promise, Felix.”

The next week, an insane and reportedly possessed mage in the South obliterated a chantry and caused the massacre of over a few hundred mages, Templars and Kirkwall citizens. It was a terrible disaster, and the South was in an uproar from what he heard. Certain groups in Tevinter supposedly started making moves to profit from it. Dorian was considering leaving with Felix to see what aid they could provide the reigning authorities. He was a good Andrastian, after all and war was a terrible thing. But not long after, he received a letter from Alexius.

_Dorian,_

_Make the amulet. I’ll return within the week, and I can make it function._

_Alexius_

Dorian crumpled it hard in his fist. _No explanation, no asking after Felix, just ‘do as you’re told’, is it_?! It seemed Alexius planned to continue with his ludicrous plan of action. It was a pointless folly, and Alexius’s refusal to accept that would be the death of them, Dorian thought hotly. Playing around with temporal magic had been exhilarating when it was all theoretical, but since they had started working towards concrete results, it had become clear to Dorian that it was a terrible idea. The very nature of the magic was unpredictable, potentially devastating and uncontrollable. Dorian was not keen in pursuing it any further than he already had, especially if someone might actually consider _using_ it.

But for some reason, he already knew he would do it. Refusing Alexius had never truly been an option. He consoled himself with the fact that the amulet would only ever work in theory. They would never have enough power for it to actually activate, it simply wasn’t possible. No matter what Alexius thought he could do, it was Dorian’s work and he knew it better than anyone. It seemed harmless enough for Dorian to tinker with it and create the time amulet for him. Perhaps _this_ time Alexius would accept it was the end of the road. Foolish optimism was a character trait that Dorian didn’t suffer lightly, but he was willing to give it a try in this one case. He still hoped for Alexius.

He began his work, and when Alexius returned as he said he would, he acted as though nothing was amiss. He wouldn’t tell them where he had been, only that he had been seeking new consultation for their cause. It did not bode terribly well for their suspicions. However, time passed and Dorian found no sign or hint of blood magic; not in Alexius’s many notes, not in his demeanour, he had no cuts that Dorian could see, and there were no slaves unaccounted for. Perhaps they had been wrong? Felix seemed mostly relieved although still concerned, and Dorian had no choice but to follow suit. Alexius, apparently, had _not_ become a blood mage. But then, what _had_ he been doing?

\--

Dorian,

You haven’t replied to my last letter and your Mother and I are worried about you. Are you still in the Alexius estate? Are you well? Are you safe? We’ve heard rumours about Gereon that concern us greatly and I hope that you aren’t involved in something malicious out of hero worship. Did Gereon have anything to say about my letter to him, at all? I cannot imagine it made a difference if these rumours are persisting. I know what desperate actions he may desire to turn to, but you must give me your word that if there is even a whisper of dark or blood magic in that estate that you will leave his side. It is not the way of House Pavus, we are not spineless fools. You know what I say…it the last resort of the weak-minded. Regardless, is Felix well enough? Are you still working on your project to cure him? It seems that you haven’t made much progress in finding something to save him permanently. If we can help, you only have to ask. Dorian, I know you feel that you owe House Alexius, but we are waiting for you at home, and so is Lady Everen. There is no shame in leaving Gereon to his grief to resume your life and duties. Please write back soon.

Regards,

Your Father

\--

I’m fine, Father. Seriously, you can stop asking. Yes, I am still at the estate, and, yes, we are still chasing after the same hopeless quest. I keep hoping that Alexius will snap out of it. Was it not enough that we found a way to prolong Felix’s life long past what someone with such an illness would normally hope to expect? We’ve given the poor boy years, when not long ago he would only have had months. Instead of spending that time with Felix, Alexius has us chasing the past. I gave him the letter you sent, but he waved it away the same way he ignores anything I say…as if I haven’t been here with him, for months and months, staring at the same dead end he is. What he wants to do is technically possible, but the power it would require is unachievable and, even if it wasn’t, would rip apart the fabric of time if successful. Thankfully there’s been no talk of blood magic. Despite what you fear, Father, I yet have hope for him.

Regards,

Dorian

\--

When the amulet was all but completed, Dorian approached Alexius in his study again. He didn’t know what exactly he could say to Alexius that he hadn’t already made clear to him before. But this time he was determined not to leave until he got some answers. His Father’s words rung out in his mind and he knew he couldn’t continue to feign ignorance that something very strange was happening in the Alexius estate. He was no longer content to dilly-dally around the facts at hand. He was nearly twenty-seven and it was beyond ridiculous that he was fearful of giving his mentor some honest home truths. Dorian was officially one of the only peeople left in Alexius’s life that still cared and didn’t doubt him. He was the only one left close to him professionally and Alexius was his responsibility, as much as Dorian had been Alexius’s when Alexius had saved him from a fruitless education and miserable future ten years ago.

“It’s done?” Alexius asked when Dorian placed the amulet into his hands.

“Mostly, yes. Alexius, you _must_ listen to me now. This is not going to work. The power you need is unachi-”

Alexius snarled and pulled away from him. “Dorian, do not start with your confused blathering again. There is nothing new to be said. Just do as I ask and complete the amulet. The rest is my dominion.”

“Your _dominion_ , Alexius? What in the world are you talking about? I won’t bloody finish the thing until you tell me what your plan is. I deserve _that_ much, at least. Maker preserve me, I’ve been steadfastly loyal to you for _ten_ years. The only reason I’m doing this at all is because I trust in you still, unlike any of our friends.”

Alexius walked furiously away from him, but Dorian gave chase, unwilling to let him go.

“Alexius! The power you need is unachievable! You cannot make this work. Even if you could, _listen to me_. It will, in all likelihood, rip a hole in time itself. It could end us all. It is dangerous and unpredictable! You would have to be insane to go through with this.”

 “Dorian, Dorian.” Alexius said, facing him. His tone was calm and tired, but there was something ugly and hateful in his eyes and features that almost scared Dorian. “Quiet yourself. You’re being emotional again. Believe it or not, I know what I am doing. I developed this with you, after all. You think you can take the credit all alone?” He laughed humourlessly. “As for the power…there are a group of people who know more than us, who have more power than us. They will do great things soon, and if we play our cards right they will do great things for me, for _Felix_. I will see him live…no matter the cost. All I need from you is the amulet. Then you can totter back to Qarinus and start breeding that poor Everen girl.”

“ _W-what_?” Dorian was floored. He was thrown by the deplorable and callous words against him, and even more so by the mention of this ‘group’ that Alexius had never spoke of before now. “A group, Alexius? Cultists, you mean? Blood mages and obsessed Magister fanatics! How could you fall prey to them? There has to be dozens of groups like that in Tevinter. We’ve spoken of and _condemned_ all of them - I don’t know how many times. How stupid you are, Alexius! What have you promised them in return? Who even are they?”

“They can help us, I know it. I know what I am doing,” he repeated like a mantra. “Do not lecture _me_ , boy.”

“You are _deluded_ , Alexius. This will be your ruin, never mind Felix’s. Do you want him to die ashamed of you? Because like it or not, Alexius…Felix is going to die very young. You need to accept this! No ‘group’ will save him.”

“Hold your tongue. You don’t know a _thing_! You play pretend in this house all these years, hiding from your father and you think you have a right to tell me that _I’m_ deluded? Why don’t you just leave now, Dorian! You’re obviously nothing but useless to me, you cowardly, filthy _sodomite!_ ”

Dorian’s jaw dropped, that Alexius would strike so low…Dorian was speechless. He looked at Alexius for a long moment, ached and hoped to see some hint of regret in his eyes that he had struck out in such a brutal and hurtful way. He swallowed, waiting, but there was nothing except disdain and rage burning there. Dorian had never felt more shaken in his life. His hands literally trembled and he sputtered in an attempt to lash out back just as harshly, wishing to vault over the insult he had just taken. One of his deepest fears had come true. Alexius was lost, fallen to temptation and Dorian didn’t know how to yank him back. He felt tears fell in up in his eyes out of fury and despair.

Alexius chuckled vindictively, victorious in their exchange.

“ _Fuck you_ , Alexius,” Dorian hissed. “You are weak, and this will be the death of you.” He sneered tenuously at him through his watering eyes. “I _hope_ it is. Then maybe Felix can have some form of peace, at last.”

“Get out of my house!” Alexius screamed at him as Dorian turned and left the study. The door slammed behind him. Alexius’s words stung bitterly like salt in a wound. It wasn't the exact phrasing, as such. It was the source. Alexius was the man he compared all others to. To think that he thought of Dorian as some lowly pervert all this time...it was unbearable. He couldn’t catch his breath, and he felt like he was shaking from inside his core. That was it, then. He had to leave the estate. And it had to be tonight.

Everything he ever owned as an adult was in this house, he realised with no small amount of pain. This was his home. He couldn’t possibly take everything tonight. He would pack the essentials now, and send someone to pick up the rest once he had his own accommodation in Minrathous. In his bedroom, he looked around slowly, feeling a sense of grief pulling at him already. He grabbed a bag and started flinging items into it. _Essential?_ What in this room _wasn’t_ essential to him though? His father’s books? His trinkets? His clothes? The jewellery his mother sent him? The staff Alexius had given him for his twenty-first birthday? The hideous portrait of Felix and himself that they howled at every time they set eyes upon it? Everything was needed and meaningful to him. This was his home more than anywhere else had been in a long time, and these were his things. He didn’t want to leave anything behind at all. He didn’t want to leave, _full-stop_. He rubbed at his arms, feeling more lost than he ever had before. _What am I to do now_?

“Dorian?” Felix stood at the entrance of his room, his eyes wide and worried.

“Felix,” Dorian said, his voice breaking suddenly.

“I heard shouting,” he said gently. “What’s going on?” His gaze dropped to the bag. “You…you’re leaving?”

“I’m kicked out, Felix, like some hooligan, can you believe it? Terribly dramatic, I know.” He cleared his throat and fought to calm himself. “I’ll write you more about it later, but listen for now, Alexius won’t see reason. He is in deeper than you know. I don’t think it’s blood magic, not on his part at least, but he’s certainly up to something sinister.”

“You said we’d save him together, Dorian,” Felix pleaded. “You can’t go.”

Dorian strode up to him and cupped the side of his head, bringing their foreheads together.

“This is not the end, Felix,” he said, looking into his eyes intensely. “It’s just the end of this chapter. We need more information before we can make a move, but all is not lost. Not yet. I’ll see you soon, I swear. But I can’t stay another moment in this house.”

“Dorian. You’re a brother to me, you know that, don’t you? Whatever my father said…know it’s not really him that said it. Please, don’t hate him.”

“Never,” Dorian said, and meant it. 

They embraced.

“I’ll be in touch,” Dorian said, pulling back, his voice thick. He gathered up his bag, not even sure what he had packed inside it. “Try not to die in the meantime, will you?”

With a parting wave, Dorian walked downstairs and left the Alexius estate. From the drama of the evening, Dorian still felt his blood burn hot and a tingling linger within him. It overwhelmed his sadness and panic, but it didn’t matter because by the time his body had calmed he was well into his second bottle of wine, and everything was numb and fuzzy all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian’s letter to his father is from World of Thedas by the way. I know this update came out a lot quicker than the last one, but I got so many awesome comments in the last chapter about characterisation and tone I just couldn't stop thinking about it. You guys are amazing.
> 
> Oh, dear. I had hoped to be able to timeskip a lot further ahead, but I started typing and this just poured out instead. What did I hope to accomplish in this chapter, then? Well, I really love Felix and Dorian’s friendship so I wanted to show more depth than humour to it this time around. I wanted to explore Felix’s character a bit more because he’s pretty great, he deserves time and development. 
> 
> For Alexius, I wanted to show how simple the fall was for him. He loves his son, he loves him so much and I wanted to convey that and show that he’s willing to give up everything that he is in a heartbeat in order to save him. He’ll sacrifice his good reputation, his body, his soul, his life, everything that is good about himself in order to make his son healthy again. It’s a very honest, desperate, parental protection instinct that comes from an almost selfless, loving place. This will be important later for comparisons to Dorian’s father. 
> 
> For Dorian I wanted to show him growing up a little and coming into his own: accepting his failures and limitations, looking after Felix in more ways than one, standing up to Alexius…I wanted to show how he became the confident man we know from the game when he is described as a cruel and arrogant bully in his youth in the World of Thedas books. I also wanted to show that he used to be hopeful and optimistic, in the game he is scornful of an optimistic inquisitor, laughs at them and calls them a unicorn because they are so rare. He always assumes the worst in the game, and yet in WoT the letter he writes to his father is hopeful. How did that all change? Well, we know. But I wanted to write about it further anyway. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are my life force. You can also find me on tumblr. Come [ say hi on there too! ](http://captaincorale.tumblr.com) It would make my day and I take prompts and sometimes write cutesy headcanons, drabbles there that I wouldn't post here. I also whine and get mad about fandom a lot, be warned, hah. :-)
> 
> If you enjoyed my work, please consider [ buying me a coffee ](http://https://ko-fi.com/cptncorale/) so I can sit and write in coffee shops and be super powered with caffeine!


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